Guilt
by LovableDuck
Summary: Yukimura was just trying to help Akaya, but the junior ace took it a bit too far. Now, Akaya is overcome with guilt. Slight YukiKiri


Author's Note: This is the first story I've written in a very long time… I hope you enjoy it. :]

Disclaimer: If I owned PoT, I certainly wouldn't be writing right now…

Guilt

Kirihara Akaya shook his head of curls, not noticing the way Yukimura watched the light glimmer off of the darkness that curled about his head.

"I hate English!" Kirihara's pout perfectly matched his tone of voice, and it was with an effort that Yukimura Seichi suppressed his smile. "Why do I need to know about Macbeth, anyway? Some stupid guy wrote about him like…a really long time ago!"

Yukimura could no longer contain his laughter; Akaya was just too cute. The sound pealed out of him, and once he started, Yukimura realized he could not stop. People walking around the park stopped and smiled to see the young, handsome man laughing in the park with a friend, especially one that was cute as well.

_It really is a perfect day, _mused Yanagi Renji, as he continued to spy on the pair. _And if anyone can help Akaya with his failing English grade, it's Yukimura...as long as Akaya isn't too offended by his laughter…_

As if reading Yanagi's thoughts, Akaya stood suddenly. He knew he was failing English, and having his idol, Yukimura, laugh at him only made him feel stupid. Feeling his flush, Akaya snarled," Don't laugh at me, you- you- FAG!"

Yukimura's laughter died instantly. Yanagi froze - although Akaya could not see him - and his face paled. _Today was supposed to be Yukimura's chance to really bond with Akaya…for Yukimura to know if he really does have feelings for him…_

Yukimura stared up wordlessly at Akaya. His usual laughing eyes had turned as hard as stone, and just as unforgiving. In one fluid motion, Yukimura stood up, and although he was not much taller than Akaya, it seemed to the younger man that his senpai towered over him.

Silently, Yukimura surveyed Akaya. His mouth had gone slack, and a mixture of fear and guilt could be seen in his eyes. But there was no sign of regret.

Akaya kept standing still, long after Yukimura stalked pass him. His eyes, so bright and green, began to fade. All the way home, he kept thinking of his English project, which his senpai had tried to help him with. All he had to do was pick a scene with Macbeth in it, alter it a little, and write about an outside observer looking in. Akaya had had no idea what that meant…until Yukimura explained it to him.

---

Dearest Yukimura,

Walked I yesternight, through dark and hallowed halls, to the room where my mistress and master lay. Exhausted I was, filled to the brim with fatigue, that I had not finished the daily duties that my mistress had placed upon me. It happens only when the night seems to go on for too long, and too many hours were spent laughing and not doing my duties. And so it was that I walked swiftly and steadily through the halls of Inverness, knowing not what I was about to hear, nor of what dark secrets lay hidden underneath shadow and night. Instead, steadily I approached the room wherein the sheets and blankets were dirty, the room of my mistress and master. Had hoped I that they would be fast asleep, so that tomorrow would come, and with it the finishing of my responsibilities. But works fate in mysterious ways, and not all things that should be understood are.

As stood I there, next to the dim doors of the room, horrible things occurred. Through the doors heard I yells, screams piercing through nightly shadows and air. Words poured out of a mouth unseen, the sounds and moans of which sent chills to mine heart. Thought I that a bloody trail seemed to run red in front of mine eyes, glossy and red, gliding easily out from the room of my master and mistress. Gleamed the blood red and deep, and it seemed that there would be no end to the horrific trail. As blood poured out, murmured a voice outside, "blood begets blood." As though it were a signal, the trail of blood then disappeared, leaving behind no trace of its existence. Yet thought I a witchy cackle sounded, slicing through the air and into my heart as though a knife.

Following this, a gasp was heard and then the sound of a hand smacking against a mouth - to silence it perhaps? Stood I still, held frozen in fear next to the entry, where heard I the following words, whispered and strangled in a man's throat, "…with all of great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red." Still stood I still, blood racing, heart fluttering - until realized I the speaker of the words was none other than my master, Macbeth.

It was then that I fled - racing through the sleeping passages of Inverness, where rooms of the innocent and naive slept safely and peacefully. Ran I to the end of Inverness, where my mouth hung open wide, part in astonishment, and part in fear. Stood I for many long minutes, the moments racing by my thoughts. Occurred to me different thoughts and explanations, but always would they lead me back to the first conclusion that I could draw. For it seems that my master has done a terrible wrong - the likes of which I know not. The creatures and demons of the night seemed to rise then, swear I that the moans and laughter of creatures long gone to hell carried close to me, on the winds of wrongdoing. But Macbeth is still my master, and I know not what to do.

Duncan, king of Scotland, resides now at Inverness. Chose he to honor Macbeth by giving to him the title of Thane of Cawdor, only to be added to Thane of Glamis. Should the king, one chosen by gods, choose to honor Macbeth, then why not I? And have I any solid evidence or proof that condemns Macbeth to any wrong at all? Therein it lies, the answer to my solution: unless any new knowledge comes forth and reveals things that are otherwise not seen, neither will my lips speak about what I heard, nor tell I anyone about this but you. Sleep well, my dearest sister, and think not too much about the happenings that have been related to you.

With all my love,

Akaya

---

Soundlessly, Akaya surveyed the writing. It was good, he knew it. Very, very good. And based entirely on his dream of last night… about Yukimura, and blood and guilt.

Because last night, Akaya had realized something. He had feelings for Yukimura. The blood in his veins seemed to grow weaker ever second that he thought about the look on Yukimura's face, the pain that he had made Yukimura feel.

But worst of all was the guilt. For the look on Yukimura's face. For the despair that had risen over his sempai like a cloud. And for the feeling that stabbed him in the gut when he got a phone call from Yanagi, telling him not to come to tennis practice tomorrow.

Silently, Akaya stared at the ceiling. And silently, the tears started to fall.

Yeah…I'm not too sure about this one… =/ At first I thought it was decent, but now…ehh. I'm thinking about writing a sequel…but I'm not sure…

Please review, and tell me what you think. All criticisms, comments, words, sounds, whatever, are duly noted and much appreciated :D

Ducky


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